


fault lines

by blazeofglory



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Trauma, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blazeofglory/pseuds/blazeofglory
Summary: Ben wants to tell Klaus everything. He wants to sit down and confess, to every terrible thing he’s endured, to every secret he’s kept, to every lie he’s told. There have been a lot over the years, but Ben thinks he remembers most of them. He doesn’t want to be the sole bearer of this information anymore; it’s eaten at him long enough.It might eat him alive one of these days if he isn’t careful.





	fault lines

**Author's Note:**

> tw: mentioned past sexual assault, past self-harm, suicidal ideation. This fic is dark and sad, please proceed with caution. 
> 
> This is set in some nebulous canon divergence AU in which Ben did _not_ die and he and Klaus left home together and got an apartment.

Ben wants to tell Klaus everything. He wants to sit down and confess, to every terrible thing he’s endured, to every secret he’s kept, to every lie he’s told. There have been a lot over the years, but Ben thinks he remembers most of them. He doesn’t want to be the sole bearer of this information anymore; it’s eaten at him long enough. It might eat him alive one of these days if he isn’t careful. 

But every time Ben opens his mouth, the words refuse to come out. How could it be fair to saddle Klaus with these terrible truths? Is it not bad enough that Ben already has to live with it? Klaus would worry. Klaus would be upset, Klaus might get angry. It would be cruel to tell him. 

_(Excuses, excuses.)_

“Klaus,” Ben says one night, embracing the courage that half a bottle of wine has granted him. “I need to tell you something.” 

Klaus, half-asleep and half-focused on knitting an extremely lumpy purple hat, doesn’t even look up when he says, “Yeah, I didn’t really like the wine that much either, I won’t be offended that you hated my pick.” 

Ben hesitates. He could take this easy out; it’s so fucking _tempting_ to. He could just nod and he could go to bed and he could never bring this up again. Instead, he says, “It’s not that.” 

Klaus looks up, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from drinking. “What’s up, buttercup?” 

All of the little confessions jump to Ben’s mind. There are a thousand things he could say, a thousand different ways he could break Klaus’s heart. 

_I used to cut myself. Sometimes I still do. No one’s ever noticed, but I don’t blame you, so please don’t blame yourself. I’ve always hidden it well._

_I’ve wanted to die since we were kids. I never thought I’d live to see 20. It sort of feels like a cosmic mistake that I’m here at all. (I think I’m meant to die young.)_

_I’m in love with you. I want to kiss you. I want to take care of you, but I don’t think you’d ever let me._

_When we were younger…_

Ben can’t even finish the thought without feeling nauseous. Somewhere in his thought process, he’d squeezed his eyes shut-- he opens them now, to find Klaus staring at him intently, wide awake and concerned. 

“Ben?” Klaus’s voice is so _soft_ , Ben wants to cry. “Are you okay?” 

“I don’t know,” Ben whispers back, looking away with tears in his eyes. Klaus reaches for his hand and Ben holds tight, staring blankly at the wall opposite the bed. He can’t face the concern in Klaus’s expression. “No. I don’t think so.” 

“Did something happen?” Klaus asks quietly, squeezing Ben’s hand. His unfinished hat and knitting needles hit the ground with a soft thump. “Ben, you’re freaking me out.” 

Ben draws his knees up and hides his face in them, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as the tears start to escape. Stupid, _traitorous_ tears-- he has nothing to cry about; he hasn’t even told Klaus yet. “It’s nothing.” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Klaus is quick to reassure, and his free hand comes up to rub Ben’s back gently. Ben lets out a quiet sigh. “We don’t have to talk about it, Benny.” 

“If I don’t tell you now, I never will,” Ben mumbles. “It’s-- yes. Something did happen. But it was a long time ago.” 

Klaus shifts closer, leaning against Ben’s back, his head against Ben’s shoulder, and Ben leans back into it, savoring the soft warmth of Klaus’s body. Of all the things life has taken from him, he’s glad to still have _this_ , his brother’s sweet words and boundless affection. He doesn’t know what he’d do without Klaus’s hand in his hand to ground him. Klaus is never going to love Ben the way that Ben loves him, but most days, this is enough. 

“It’s okay,” Klaus says again, his voice a quiet murmur in Ben’s ear. “Whatever it is, whatever happened, you’re okay now.” 

“I’m not,” Ben protests, tears falling faster. “I’m not _okay_ , Klaus.” 

“ _Ben_ ,” Klaus whispers, voice tight. “What happened?” 

A thousand words on his lips... 

_I cried for a week and told everyone it was just because I read a sad book. I can’t believe none of you pressed me for more._

_I have nightmares almost every night, and when I wake up screaming, I know you think I’m dreaming of the missions and the horror, but I’m not. Those are traumas I can process. This one isn’t._

_You’re the only person who can touch me and not make me flinch._

“When we were younger,” Ben starts, then takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “When we were younger, you weren’t the only one who snuck people into the academy after hours. I-- I met someone. We were like… 16. And I met this guy and he was so _nice_ to me. And I never told you about him because he… he told me not to.” 

Klaus is quiet for a long moment; Ben holds his breath. Then, Klaus prompts in a hesitant voice, “What did he do to you?” 

And in that instant, Ben knows that Klaus _knows_. Ben doesn’t have to say anything else if he doesn’t want to; Klaus already has the gist of it. Ben can just-- just wipe away his tears and say goodnight and pat himself on the back for finally confessing. 

But Ben has more to say. It’s now or never. 

Ben opens his eyes, staring down at the blue flower print of Klaus’s bedspread. If he closes his eyes too long, he’ll start to see _his_ face, and he doesn’t want to throw up all the wine he’s drunk. 

“He gave me what he thought I wanted,” Ben whispers, clumsily wiping away his tears, still keeping his face hidden. “And I didn’t say _no_ , so how can I blame him? How can I blame _anyone_ but myself?” 

“Ben…” Klaus pulls away, voice so quiet that Ben can barely hear it. _He’s repulsed,_ Ben’s brain supplies. _He doesn’t want to touch you now. And after all, why would he? You’re damaged goods_. 

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” Ben says suddenly, standing up so fast that the blood rushes to his head and he stumbles for a second. 

“Ben, wait,” Klaus says, and Ben freezes halfway to the door. “Look, I-- I know I’m not the best at talking about stuff, but you know-- you _need_ to know that it wasn’t your fault.” 

“You don’t know that,” Ben whispers, still keeping his back to Klaus. He stares hard at Klaus’s closed bedroom door, ‘til his vision gets blurry and he has to blink back more stupid tears. “You _can’t_ know that.” 

“I do, though,” Klaus says softly, and Ben can hear him get off the bed and step closer, but Ben still doesn’t turn. He braces himself for Klaus’s touch, but what he receives instead is Klaus’s softest pink blanket, draped over Ben’s shoulders. 

Ben has more to say, confessions and explanations, but no words to say them. He stays frozen for one long moment, and so does Klaus, and then Ben finally turns back around and crawls back into Klaus’s bed without even looking at his brother. If he sees tears on Klaus’s face, the guilt will _choke_ him, so he doesn’t look, and he pretends he doesn’t hear Klaus sniffle as he lays back down too. 

“Hold me,” Ben says, voice barely a whisper, and Klaus immediately bridges the gap between them, cuddling up against Ben’s back to spoon him. Slowly, Ben feels himself start to relax into the warm embrace, letting out a quiet sigh. “Thank you.” 

“It’s going to be okay,” Klaus whispers back, carefully adjusting the pink blanket so it covers Ben’s arms-- he hadn’t even realized they were cold ‘til now. “I’ll be here no matter what. You can talk about it if you want to, but you don’t have to.” 

Ben thinks about voicing every horrible thought, every terrible memory. 

_I didn’t fight him, I didn’t say “no,” I don’t even know if he knows that I didn’t want it. How can I blame him?_

_Did you ever wonder why I started sharing your bed in the last few months before we left home? I couldn’t sleep in mine. The same bed where he--_

_(I felt sick every time I laid down.)_

_I don’t think I’ll ever have sex again. I can’t imagine it, I can’t fathom it. You’re the only one I think I could ever trust and you would never want that_. 

Ben buries his face in the soft blanket and breathes deep-- it smells like Klaus, like weed and lavender and _home_. It’s wet with Ben’s tears, but he doesn’t mind too much. Klaus holds Ben, just tight enough to make him feel _safe_ , and neither of them say anything. Ben isn’t sure he feels any better, any less like his soul is about to be devoured by the monsters under his bed, but he feels… he feels warm. He thinks Klaus must love him, though he’s never said it; _none_ of them have ever said it. 

Maybe they should start. Ben opens his mouth, _I love you_ on the tip of his tongue. 

But Ben doesn’t say it. For now, it’ll stay on his list of secrets, his truths and lies and confessions and nightmares and memories. It’ll be safe there, tucked deep inside him, choking the life out of him. He’ll guard it well, just like the rest. 


End file.
